The Song of the Blade
by Zingacat
Summary: Rayator Riverhawk, a young otter slave of the Emperer Ozromar, manages to escape to Mossflower wood, and apparent safety. But a band of slave catchers are hard on her tail. Meanwhile, a young badger runs away from his family, and gets more than he barga


Dark night lay heavy on the woods of Mossflower. A light breeze ruffled the topmost branches, sending a few of the autumn hued leaves tumbling down on the gentle night air. Stars winked like diamonds sewn on to a piece of darkest velvet, with not a cloud to mar their glory.

Through this peace padded a lone figure, running as silently as the mist that lay heavy on the earth. Her paws made no noise in the deep loam, and the only sound to be heard was quick gasps of breath. The otter finally collapsed against the trunk of an oak, chest heaving as she fought for air. Rayator Riverhawk had been running with out rest for over a day now. Karmil and his gang were on her trail, and for all she knew, gaining. The brawny otter gritted her teeth at the thought of that hated fox, and her paws automatically clenched on the dagger she had stolen from the fortress of Ozromar during her escape.

Rayator knew she should get up and run more, but her limbs were so tired, and the loam was so cool and soft against her head. Her paws ached, even more than the pain of hunger in her gut, or the harsh rasp of breath against her parched throat. She must get up, and run, run until all her enemies were far behind. Then she could rest. Aye, rest, and plan revenge. But the intoxicating darkness of sleep beckoned, and the otters eyelids drooped shut. The night wore on, peaceful and silent, except for the last few strains of cricket song, and the serenading of frogs. A faint light shone on the eastern horizon. Soon it would be dawn.

A shadow, blacker than the darkest night, darted through the mists, moonlight glinting occasionally on bared blade and fangs. It paused in the shade of an elm, cupped on paw to its mouth and gave an eery, hooting cry. The cry was answered in the distance, splitting the silence with a harsh shreik as sharp as a knife.

The ferret grinned, white teeth gleaming against black fur. She dipped back into the darting, dodging run that had carryied her through the night. The black fur of her pelt melded with the darkness, just one more shadow among the trees.

Karmil peered out through the branches of a bush, eyes intent on the forest path in front of him. Daeyon had signaled, not long before, and she should be hear soon. Yes, there, barely perceptible in the twilight before dawn, was a black shadow, darting towards him.

"What news, Daeyon?" The white fox called softly into the night.

"Nothing much, Karmil. The otters tracks cut north a bit, but I lost them in a stream." The black ferret pulled herself through the screen of bushes, crouching beside her leader, midnight fur contrasting sharply with his blinding white pelt.

"We'll have to find the trail, and there's no time to wait untill dawn. Go rouse the crew and we'll head out." Karmil dismissed the ferret and stood up, stretching. His paw strayed to the sabre belted at his side; it drew easily, shining faintly. The fox whipped the blade to guard position, one paw upraised behind him. Swishing the thin, supple blade before him almost idly, he paced across the clearing concealed behind the bushes. His sword suddenly snapped into the shadow of a tall ash tree, its point resting dangerously close to the eye of a trembling stoat.

"Glimba, what a pleasant surprise. Nice of you to stop by. What, may I ask were you doing, sulking back here in the shadows, eh?" The nonchalant attitude of Karmil's words were belied by scorning curl of his upper lip, and the way his sabre point was digging into Glimba's cheek. "Taking notes for Ozromar, spying perhaps? A nice feather in your cap, if you caught me planning treachery against the Emperer himself, eh, you filthy gluttonus worm!" The fox's eyes blazed as the words poured from his mouth like embers. The tip of his sabre had gouged a small trench to the corner of the hapless stoats eye, and was threatening to slip. "You can't fool me, Glimba. How do you suppose I got to be General in Ozromar's army, eh? By letting scum like you rat on my every move? No no, Glimba, I got here by making my own plans,and making examples of spys. I may have to show my band...but unfortunately you won't be there to see it."

"N-no...please! I-I wasn-n't doin' nothin' sir! Honest! L-let me go, General Karmil, please! I-I w-won-" The rest of Glimba's sentence was cut off by the clenching paw of the white fox, fastened like a steel vise around the stoats throat.

Karmil heard the crunch of leaves that announced the arrival of his troops. "Well boys, we're going to have to delay a bit before we head out. Glimba here's just been kind enough to let me wipe clean any thoughts of spying or treachery from your minds." The General relinquished his hold on Glimba's neck. Karmil spun the stoat around and looped an arm around his shoulder, almost friendly. "First, the eyes. So there'll by no more spying." The fox's sabre slashed in two jerks, peircing Glimbas eyes. The stoat shreiked, blood pouring down his cheeks. "Then the ears, so there'll be no more eavesdropping." Again, the sabre danced its deadly steps, slicing the helpless creatures ears to stumps. "And then the windpipe, so there'll be no more telling of tales." The stoats peircing screams dribbled away to a pathetic gurgle, and the blade sliced Glimba's throat, causing him to choke on his own blood.

The white fox's cruel laughter echoed through the still night air.

Rayator woke, the screams ringing in her head. They were close. Closer than she'd realized. The otter dragged herself to her weary paws, and ran on, into the dawn.


End file.
